Safe House
by morethenwords122
Summary: Daisy made a promise that she intends to keep, Fitz just wants to keep his family safe, and it takes every fiber of Jemma's being to lay her prejudices aside and trust Daisy Johnson. *Fitzskimmons Inhuman AU*
1. Daisy (I)

**you'll soon find you have few choices/ all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach (** _arsonist's lullaby,_ _caitlyn aldin)_

* * *

 _There was so much fucking blood._ Dear God, it was _everywhere_ … staining her suit, pouring buckets onto the concrete beneath her….blending into every single one of her senses and blurring everything that she _was_ into oblivion. Her vision swam with tears… huge dark spots danced around the corners of her eyeballs… Her ears were raw and sensitive to every sound, split and ringing with the strong possibility that they might be fading… _bleeding_ along with everything else vulnerable and exposed in her body. Her mouth was bone dry…her tongue like sandpaper against the edges of her crack lips. She tried swallowing some of her own salvia to cancel out the large amounts of blood that were beginning to spill out the side of her mouth, but to no avail…She just ended up spitting out thick, black muck that was dangerously beginning to clog up her throat.

In fact, her mouth was devoid of all liquids but the tangy, cooper relish of the blood that was rapidly filling her mouth. _Oh, God, this was the end._ She knew with every droplet of blood that fell onto the ground below her that she was one step closer to death…and it was seriously starting to freak Daisy Johnson the fuck out.

But she _had_ to keep her cool.

She _couldn't_ give up…. _had_ to keep going…Didn't have a choice. Daisy had a mission she _needed_ to complete. The address _2250 Chester Blvd_ kept chanting around wildly in her head, swirling like an unavoidable vortex that she couldn't— _that she wouldn't want to_ — escape. She couldn't give up….she had to keep going…. She _couldn't_ acknowledge the pain coursing through her entire being. It felt too much like admitting defeat… and she refused to just sit back and allow _Ward_ to win this one. Daisy Johnson might be many things, but a quitter just wasn't one of them. There were three people, who had no idea just how _close_ pure evil was to showing up on their doorstep and wreaking havoc on their lives all over again…people who were depending on her, unknowingly counting on her presence to be there and protect them from the big, bad wolf… but more importantly, an innocent little girl's future lay solely in _her_ super-powered hands…and she didn't intend to fail that little girl…Daisy couldn't leave her to fend for herself against the unknown— _against the mist_! Not when she knew what it was like to be abandoned to fight against it all on your own…Not as long as she had two working legs and the grit to push on.

So Daisy sucked it up, stifling the animalistic scream that threatened to claw its way from her throat… desperately clenching her hand over the giant gash across her stomach so that her intensities wouldn't come spilling out onto the cement where most of her blood already lay…She locked away all the overwhelming pain and unadulterated rage boiling down deep within her…sweeping it away from the surface of her core…and, instead, she took it…used it…all that mounting agony building up in her soul and turned it around to her advantage…using it as the strength that she needed to fuel herself to push onward.

And on she went… with all the sorrow and willful defiance that would not lay down and give up that she could muster in her skin and bones. She couldn't handle letting down yet _another_ person. She'd done that enough to last her for about ten lifetimes. Hell, it's about the only thing that Daisy had ever been taught by her father that she _allowed_ herself to excel and be the best at…

 _"My sweet little Daisy," her father would whisper softly to her when he was going to say something he believed would upset her. His lyrical voice silk and soothing…but underscored with harsh and gritty melodies of reality against hot, aimless night. "Once people find out who…no, **what** you are… they'll want to use you…destroy you…so leave them, my dear… use and **destroy** them before they leave nothing left of you to pick off the ground to go on with… **understand**?" _

_She'd nod her seven-year-old head…not understanding, but wanting to make her father happy. Her forehead bloody, her body beaten, and her knuckles bruised from that day's survival training… and they would both leave it at that—or at least until Daisy fucked up by caring too much again._

 _"Because in this world_ — _my sweet little Daisy_ — _there are only a few things an inhuman really needs to know to survive: flee and scatter your enemy's ashes in your wake before they can yours… I trust inhumans even less than regular people…Your powers are the closest_ — _and the only… true friend you'll ever have… Use, abandon, and spit people out before they can do the same to you."_

Welcome to Daisy's dysfunctional way of learning how to cope with the crippling loneness that often came along with being an inhuman in this world! Man, would her father be so proud of her…! She had become exactly what he had taught— _and always wanted_ —her to be, alone and invulnerable… impenetrable, emotionless— _"I know it seems to you that I'm being mean…harsh…but I just want you safe, Daisy…It can't be like it used to…because you're not how you used to be…"_

She shook her head…it didn't matter now. All of her fucked up intricacies had no place here. She wasn't about to let her skewed view of the world _get_ in the way of her duty to these three people she swore to Phil Coulson on her heart and soul that she would protect with _her very life_ if need be— _and if things were heading where she thought they would, her life was exactly what it would take to keep her promise._

"Almost there _…_ " Daisy breathed, her voice faint. Her mind was a whirlwind of one thing and one thing only— _2250 Chester Blvd_ —and it was only a bit closer now. She could make it… all she had to do was just lock away the pain and push forward. She couldn't fail… there wasn't much time left. _She had to make it…_

All the signs of blood loss were rushing up to meet her…leaving her weak and breathless. Her battered chest was heaving…her breath coming out in pants due to the lack of air that was reaching her lungs. She was slowly beginning to choke on her own blood, leaving thin ropes of blood on the sidewalk beneath her feet… her legs wobbly and ready to give out at a moment's notice. Her usually limber feet were constantly stumbling over one another…her shoes scraping against the concrete as imbalance kept her clumsy and unable to cover her tracks as well as she should.

She coughed, roughly wiping away the blood from the corners of her lips. She knew by the rapid fire way in which she was deteriorating that _Ward_ would have no problem finding her soon and _finally_ finishing her off once and for all. She couldn't outrun him forever, not in the state she was currently in. She had overextended herself in their original confrontation, and now she was too weak for even _her_ powers to work her way out of it. Plus, she was growing _so tired…_ her unwavering faith crumbled along with the rest of the unsteady parts of her. Freedom seemed to be getting even further away from her with every _single_ step she took… as well as her ability to stay conscious…. The ground eagerly waited to come up to meet her as the overwhelming tidal wave of nauseating black blood continued to— _terrifyingly_ — build up in the back of her throat, taking away the rest of the air from her lungs and any remaining steam that she had left along with it.

" _Fucking bastard!"_ she yelped out, as a sharp, agonizing pain shot up and down her spine, driving her violently down to her knees and eventually causing her to slam her face down onto the sidewalk below. Brand new blood filled up her mouth and nostrils before intermixing with the old, her hand loosening its tight grip around her wounded entrails…the edges of her eyesight growing even hazier as everything turned gray and black…the world around her constantly washing in and out of color and view… motions and images slowed down to a crawl as the adrenaline once pulsing through her veins wore off, bit by bit…and she ignored it all, pushing back the pain once again— _scooping it out and tossing it aside for the final time—_ and caught her bearings. She didn't have time to falter now. She was _almost_ there…

So Daisy kept _trying_ … pushing herself up off the ground with all the strength that her blood slick fingers could handle, clawing weakly at the surface of the pavement below… seeking for any kind of leverage that she could hold onto. She laid both of her bloody hands flat out in front of her…wishing that her uncompliant limbs would be able to cooperate as much as heaven would allow…her movements growing sluggish…and eroded down by pain and exhaustion with every move she made…and with dawning realization— _like a sharp, cold smack to the face_ —she knew that defeat was imminent…fast approaching…She was nearing the end of the road, beginning to tumble head first into the endlessly dark abyss of unconsciousness… a cool and invisible numbness washed over her… all of her aches and pains disappearing within its waves… her brain beginning to power down— _fading…passing_ —shutting off…being taken away by the powerful undertow of the unknown. She was fading…passing over into the beyond…no longer able to keep her eyes wide and defiantly open in its potent wake.

Time to say her mental goodbyes— _because it seemed like she had long driven past that fast train toward Failure Avenue and was now approaching the thin one-way ticket to death Street_ —to silently whisper her apologies into the still, midnight air…To feel everything that Daisy Johnson _was_ blow away in the breeze of the night until there was nothing left but her sorrows and regrets staining the ground like bad blood.

She had failed…disappointed everyone she loved and who had believed in her— _Coulson…May…Mack…Elena… Lincoln_ — she had failed _three innocent people_ … because in the end, it would not be enough. Ward would get to _them_ …would get to that _child_ …and any future blood that bastard shed on his path would be on her cold, dead hands.

 _So, this is what is dying like?_ _A bittersweet taste in your mouth that you couldn't get rid of…a freezing winter breeze that chills you down to the bone_ , Daisy thought with a murmur, reluctantly laying back onto the cold, hard ground…her entire body numbed from blood loss, her intestines finally spilling all over the pavement…her spirit washing away— _fading_ —in defeat… Her tears were gone, all dried up…Her thoughts turned into a shutter-frame of snapshots passing through her faltering mind…passing— _the rare Texas breeze of summer sweeping across her face as she swung from the swing set of her childhood, her mother singing beautiful Chinese hymns to her as her father smiled in the background_ …fading— _Ward's face on the night she had met him all those years ago, her shirt and pants and underwear torn… lip split and knuckles bruised…his nose crooked and face splashed with the blood of others, but his smile was honest and his hand reached out to her with the purest of intentions… and she took it_ …passing— _Coulson's sudden words to her as she held Lincoln's bloody, lifeless body in her arms, her face streaked with tears and blood… Coulson's words and sorrow swirling around in her atmosphere like impending death was now…"Go, Daisy! We'll hold off Ward as long as we can…There's nothing we can do for Lincoln except finish what he laid down his life for…Find them, Daisy…find **her** and save **her** …Do it for me…for Lincoln…" and she nodded her head, wiping the tears from her eyes as she laid Lincoln down onto the hard ground and got up to complete **her** mission…And she thought she would…until Ward found her…_

 _She was so sorry—_

"Ma'am!" A young man with an accent shouted…his footfalls were heavy and loud against the blacktop as he ran towards her, sliding violently onto the ground. He leaned close…his broad frame and soulful gray eyes swam in and out of her hazy field of view…his slim hands hovered hesitantly over her wounds… roaming… seeking… "Oh, God…" he moaned sadly, his voice broken and frightened… his enormous worry coming to her from thousands and thousands of miles away… _fading…passing…_ His beautiful eyes filled with unshed tears with every frantic search he made…and Daisy desperately wished that she had the energy to reach out and comfort him. She didn't know which was worse—dying or being unable to comfort the man who would watch her take her last breath.

"I-I'm—" Daisy tried, but just ended up choking on her own tongue…and the blood that was endlessly flowing from the corners of her mouth now. She coughed violently and the man shushed her.

"It's okay…Don't talk…You'll just make it worse if you try to talk…" He whispered softly, running a tentative hand through her blood soaked hair…humming softly…sweetly…and she couldn't help but lean into his touch, not knowing just how desperately she had needed the human contact. How not dying alone would be such a mixed bag of emotions…She wanted this sweet young man to _run_ … far away and fast, to forget the inhuman girl lying bleeding in the middle of the road….but…she also _needed_ him close to abate the oncoming rush of fear and anguish… And it surprised her…that oncoming weight, the electric lightning blot coursing through her…It was bogging her already feeble body down into the bottom of the ocean like a sinking ship, waking her up and pulling her away from her shattered snapshot of memories…

And she wished for nothing more than to just let herself drown in it…but the young man's soothing voice shocked her back into reality…. It was as if she had heard one of the old Chinese hymns that her mother loved to sing after twelve years of it _fading… passing…_ in intervals of the background of her mind's eye…but never really _truly_ gone. God, she missed her mother…! She couldn't wait to see her again.

" _Please, don't leave…_ " The man choked out brokenly, his breath coming out in hitches…his accent deep and raspy. " _Stay….you'll be okay…I promise…_ " His hand came closer to her cheek in a stroking motion…wanting— _desperately_ —to touch…to offer comfort…but—

"Fitz, don't touch her!" Another person with an accent— _a woman…?—_ screamed, her feet racing… stomping the pavement next to the man leaning over her with such concern…and the man's hand jerked back as though Daisy's face was made of fire that could burn and sear the skin clean off his bones…His expression was still sad and desperate as he glanced in the direction of the woman's voice…but his gray eyes were filled with shame now, instead of his earlier steel cold resolve to save a bleeding girl…like he had almost forgotten… just for a moment.

" _Jemma…_ " The man named Fitz bit out as the woman leaned down over Daisy…Her face eclipsed the man's almost entirely. Her pretty features twisted in fear and disgust…and all Daisy could think about as she peered down at her was that she was one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen…and, at that, Daisy couldn't help the blood filled snort that came out of her mouth in a pant. _The fucking irony_ … _just like her to fall for a girl who clearly hates her guts without even knowing her…and while she's bleeding to death on the dirty road._

But then Daisy blinked, her brain, foggy with blood loss, finally registered the names floating around in the air like a blessing…Jemma…Fitz…as in Leopold and Jemma Fitz _._ _Oh, sweet, merciful God!_ She felt that the heavy weight sitting on her soul was lifting just a little…the deep, agonizing cry that seemed to constantly be scratching at the surface finally dissipating like dry, humid air. _She'd found them!_ _Lincoln…Coulson…She found them…She hadn't failed them, Coulson…She hadn't failed…_

"She's inhuman…" _Jemma_ spat venomously a moment later, breaking into her grateful thoughts….Shocked once again in her fading light, Daisy was caught off guard by Jemma's clear distain. _What?_ _How?_ Oh, Ward…The symbol on her suit now smeared with blood…the mark that all inhumans are forced to wear.

" _Jemma,_ _she's dying…now's not the—_ "

"I don't—" Jemma started, but stopped when a young, dark haired little girl appeared next to her…The child's features mirrored that of the young man's earlier, but her tears were openly streaming down her unblemished face.

"Ma'am…" The little girl whimpered helplessly, pushing the woman back to make room for her to come over and hug Daisy fiercely…and Daisy hugged back weakly, tear welling in her eyes… _Rose Fitz…oh, thank God, you'll be safe, you sweet little girl…_

"Rose, go back in the house…" Fitz scolded. "It's not safe!"

"Mommy, please…please save her… She needs us…" The little girl said, her words muffled…watery… against Daisy's battered neck. Daisy's blood streaked across her right cheek as she looked up at her mother with wide, pleading eyes…and Daisy had to stop this…before her heart broke into a million pieces along with the rest of her. There was no _saving_ her…only just enough time to warn and save them.

" _W-w…_ " Daisy tried speaking again, but with the same result…only this time she tried to choke alone and in silence as Jemma Simmons stared at her beautiful daughter, her eyes finally sad and filled with tears…She wanted to give them as much ignorant bliss as she could before bursting their bubble— _like it made much of a difference now…with her bleeding on the ground_ —but Fitz and Rose saw her struggle…and leaned closer.

"Rose…I can't…" Jemma gasped out, her voice hoarse and ragged…but it was Fitz's turn to interrupt.

"Be quiet! She's trying to say something…" Fitz said coldly.

"What?" Jemma asked…appearing stunned by her husband's coldness. He ignored her.

"What is it, darling? What'd you need to say?" He asked her softly, his hand now finally touching her cheek…not seeming to care that it was covered in blood _or that she was inhuman_. And Daisy knew that it was now or never. She didn't have any second chances. She wasn't about to let something as stupid— _or_ _as serious_ —as a little blood in the lungs stop her now.

" _Ward…Ward…Ward…_ " Daisy said, her voice weak and broken…Ward's name falling from her lips as easily as it ever had…and she saw his eyes widen in understanding…knowing what she was trying to say, but that weakness wouldn't allow her to. He nodded, his gaze turning wild and unfocused as fear and protection took over… and she knew that she had done well in her final hour. Leopold Fitz would protect his family. She silently sighed in relief…She could rest peacefully now. She had done it…completed her mission…kept her promise. She hadn't failed…They would be safe. Her job was done.

So Daisy Johnson closed her eyes, allowing everything that she had feared take her over into a better place…a place when the hot morning, Texan breezes would blow every day _and she wouldn't have to forget what it felt like to sit out in the open air and just breathe…Not watching as one state would blur into another in her mind's eyes…Finally having a place to call home…No longer running…_ where her father tinkered endlessly with the priceless artifacts he would find out on his digs in foreign countries— _and now she would never have to worry that one day would be the day that he would bring home the **very** article that would change his precious little girl into a monster…messing up his whole life…_She was going to a place where her mother would forever sing beautiful songs without missing a beat or tiring— _because she would tire out…tire from having a freak for a daughter…for having a drill sergeant for a husband… she would tire of living from one crappy motel to another the scraps of hand-outs that people always wanted something for…She finally tired to the point that she would take a .22 to her brain pan and end it all…_ She would met up with Lincoln and they could constantly show off their powers— _without fear of dying over it…_ An incredible location where you could know that someone will always love you the next day even if you were a little different…to live in peace within…to, hell, just live..

She closed her eyes…and hoped that was exactly what heaven would be.

 _ **TBC...**_


	2. Fitz (I)

**better to burn out than fade away/ out of the blue and into the black (** _into the black, the chromatics)_

* * *

 _Compression, blood, and complete and utter watery darkness…one, two, and three, Ignore the sharp shooting pain radiating down his left arm; he already knows that it's broken…It's not important, just shallow air in and out of his lungs… Take a deep breath …assess the situation…figure out possibility of survival…Low… it's low…Oh, God, breathe, Leopold, calm down… Blink the fear away and, hopefully, the light will shine through that underwater abyss threatening to devour him into its blackness…Just breathe and find Jemma…Find Ward…Make sure that they're both okay and get back to the surface…if they can._

 _"_ _Jemma…Ward!" Fitz yelled, not being able to keep back the pure, white hot panic from wrapping its slithery entrails around his heart, gripping and squeezing tenfold. He's already lost so much today… Coulson…May…his team to Hydra…to the fucking inhumans…and he couldn't handle losing the both of them too. He couldn't lose Jemma…He just wouldn't survive it._

 _But soon that rope-tight panic turned to overwhelming joy when Jemma's unmistakable voice rang out in the darkness, "I'm here…" she said. "Don't move so much; your arm's broken. I set it while you were out."_

 _"_ _Are y-you okay…? Is the—?" He asked instead. He wasn't worried about his arm…it was his head that was bothering him…The throbbing headache from the fall into the bottom of the ocean was pulsing through his forehead…leaving him dazed and unable to focus like he wanted to._

 _"_ _We're okay…T-t-he baby's fine, I think…"Jemma answered him, and Fitz breathed a deep sigh of relief. Nothing else mattered now…the losses…the fails…the falls…he could figure a way out of all of that. There was no doubt that they would survive now…He'd make sure of that …because there was no way he was losing Jemma and the baby to this hell. He wouldn't lose the miracle that had keep the team fighting against the beast longer than they probably would have without something to live for._

 _And Ward—Fitz's thoughts skidded to a halt at Ward's name. Where was he?! He hadn't heard him…and that didn't make sense. If Jemma was down here with him, then Ward_ _ **had**_ _to be too…Ward's protective nature wouldn't allow him to be too far away from Jemma and their baby._

 _"_ _W-ward?" He asked, panic stowing away into his heart again…No… don't let it be true…Please let him be alive. "Jemma, where's Ward?" The silence that met him was even more deafening than before…In it he remembered the truth._

 _"_ _Fitz…" Jemma choked out, her voice small and young…scared and heartbroken. "He's the reason we're down here… Don't you remember?"_

"Leave her, Fitz…She's dying anyway… We have to leave before Ward finds us…" Jemma said, breaking through the haze of Fitz's memories of a life long ago like a sharp ice pick to a block of solidly frozen ice…shattering them to pieces chuck by chuck. Her monotone words, tainted with fear ghosting over his frayed mind… floating to him from a million miles away…swirling around the membrane like a poison, destroying everything that he _was…_ burning to ash all of the precious memories that he hid, harboring deep down within his soul of souls…

He blinked, closing his eyes against the sudden, overpowering rush of vertigo …a double sense of déjà vu...An overload of nebulous memories washed over him again and again. Was it seven years ago?— _"Hi, I'm Grant Ward. I guess we're going to be roommates." "I'm Leopold Fitz…So do you want the top or bottom bunk?"—_ or the present? Had he pulled a peter pan act and stayed twenty-two…forever sealing his fate to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean— _"Fitz, no! Don't think it…" "Jemma…There's only enough supplies in this metal box for one…and you have the baby to think about…and I won't lose either of you…"—_ or was he a twenty-nine year old man going on thirty, staring into the nearly lifeless eyes of— _himself looking in_ — a young inhuman girl who'd seem to have risked everything in her life to save them and his daughter...

He could feel Jemma's cool, apathetic gaze staring down at the dying girl, its cold glare baring on his soul… like a chill trickling down the back of his spine, pulling him violently back into a reality he didn't quite want to face yet. Fitz tried desperately to shake off his wife's baleful words…wanting the vile letters to fall and shatter on the ground before him and intermix with the dried blood staining the blacktop. He wanted them to be meaningless…unimportant…he didn't— _couldn't_ —make them matter because acknowledging that the words had come out of his compassionate, wonderful wife's mouth…the woman who, along with her daughter, made up his entire world…would send him into a tumbling whirlwind…the subtle, yet monumental _change_ in her confused him, often made him feel stupid.

He sometimes forgot that hidden _change_ …that barely noticeable _shift_ …because, despite everything that had happened to them in the crazy rollercoaster that they've called their life, they led a pretty happy existence. Simple, compared to the unpredictable hurricane that was life on the bus with May and Coulson. They had a smart and beautiful young daughter, whose love for biology had bled over from her mother— _and her habit of getting into mischief from_ _ **her**_ _father_. They owned a quaint little house in a suburban cul-de-sac…and they _lived_ … _smiled_ … _loved_. They were the typical American family that Fitz always grew up wishing he had as a child, all sunshine and rainbows over the horizon …nothing murky waiting in the water to spoil the American dream hiding underneath… _except_ …

Wasn't there _always_ an underlying storm cloud hanging over all the happiness in their lives… a sense of impending doom wanting to come up and meet them head on…a torrential downpour rolling, overcast, thundering with the threat of shattering their little American slice of paradise to tiny pieces in the form of a six foot six inch pure inhuman male hiding in the background? Grant Ward…Wasn't he the monster they all needed to be saved from…the interloper who would never, ever leave, forever lurking in the background?

Grant Ward…

 _"_ _I'll always protect you and Simmons…" Grant spoke out in the imperfect darkness of their bunk, his voice grave, yet soft around the edges as he whispered, "No matter what happens to us, no matter where I go…" Ward's arm tightened as he continued, the darkness hiding Fitz's tears. Jemma's sleeping form moved closer as Ward went on. "You and Jemma are my home. You- I love you, Fitz. Okay?"_

 _"_ _I love you too, Ward."_

Fitz shook his head.

 _That_ didn't matter…not now… not when they both _needed_ saving…him from his memories…and the nameless inhuman girl from a giant gash slashed across her stomach…but it wasn't _himself_ that he intended on helping. Fitz was beyond help when it came to his nebulous memories…but he'd be damned if he repaid this gorgeous, young woman by leaving her— _broken, bloody, and bruised_ — lying alone on the blacktop in front of his house…bleeding to death. He _wouldn't_ … Not without doing whatever he could in his power to save her.

He's seen enough spilt blood in his lifetime…

"Fitz…We have to go…" Jemma's voice came to him from far away, her hand on his shoulder breaking through the haze of his brain, startling him back into reality once again. _Right_ , he thought, shaking his head as he let go of the dying woman's hand. _He knew what he needed to do._

He shook his wife's hand off from his shoulder, blood staining the front of his shirt as he turned toward his daughter. "Rose, baby…go into the house and get our go-away bags. You know where they are…"

Rose didn't acknowledge what was said, still staring into the eyes of the dying woman lying on the ground, holding her limp hand as tears rolled down her youthful cheeks. Fitz's heart broke for his daughter…She was still so young for this…to know how cruel the world was to inhumans. He leaned over, cradling her head in both of his hands, his thumb wiping away the tears streaming down. "It will be okay, Rose…She'll be okay…" He whispered. "I promise…now, do as I say."

"Alright, Daddy." Rose nodded, doing as her father told her to.

"Fitz…" Jemma said in the background, her voice seeming a million miles away…unimportant as he continued to process the scene before him. Leo reached out to touch the dying girl's hair, swiping it away from her beautifully pale face…cradling her blood soaked body in his hands. God, even drained and dying before him, the woman was gorgeous.

He sighed, raising his left hand to touch her cheek and instead seeing blood…her blood…for the first time. Really processed it, as he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. God, it was everywhere…touching every surface. So much of it… So much—

"Leopold Fitz!" Jemma shouted, roughly grabbing his chin, forcing him to pay attention to her…bringing him back. "Talk to me!" She pleaded, kneeling down beside him on the hard, blood soaked pavement…both of her soft hands framing his tear-streaked cheeks, her touch comforting and familiar. He leaned into it, seeking the warmth of her. _His_ wife… _his_ love… _his_ entire world; just her and a beautiful young girl who wasn't his, were his alone, to have and to hold.

"Jemma, I love you..." He held her close, his forehead against hers. He took his bloody hands and caressed her cheeks, leaving behind streaks of blood on her face. "My, God, I love you so much sometimes that it hurts to breathe with the amount of love I hold in my heart for you..." He said, breathing in her scent…reluctant to move away from Jemma's warmth and let the noise rush back into his every sense. He kissed her, so intense and beautiful…her lips pink and ready for him…a welcoming escape to the madness swirling around in his head. He knew what _needed_ to be done…what he _had_ to do. It was time…

Fitz broke away, looking Jemma in the eye, steel in his bones and heart. There was no room for mistakes now…He couldn't be misunderstood…What _needed_ to be said had to be firm, with such finality that it left no room for argument. Because he refused…... _refused_ to sit back and let this girl bleed out in their front lawn, not in front of Rosie…not _ever_ …

"I'll get the car and you go get your medical kit…" He said with purpose, daring her to challenge him. Hoping that he could convey what he felt deep down in his soul to her. Wishing that the link woven between them wouldn't fray around the edges due to his unrelenting conviction…he just _couldn't_ —he _wasn't_ letting this girl die…

"Fitz…" Jemma whispered, her tone shaken and cold. Her fear was palpable in the air around them…threatening to choke the life out of him. He kissed her cheek, letting his lips linger…tasting the intermixture of blood, sweat, and tears on her face. _God, he loved her…_

"I hope you know what you're doing."

He didn't…

 _ **TBC...**_


	3. Jemma (Part I of II)

**abandon reason/ avoid all eye contact/ this is a low flying panic attack** ( _burn the witch, radiohead)_

* * *

 _"I'm going to go get the car and you're going to get your medical kit…"_ Fitz spoke, his normally gentle voice harsh and clinical. His _words_ were final and unyielding, his _resolve_ severe and unbreakable…and in it Jemma's own broke… _knowing_ what he'd left unsaid.

 _We're saving her, Jemma. End of discussion. We are **not** Ward. _

"She risked her life to save ours…to save _Rose_ ," he stressed, his intensity wavering. Panic and weariness laced every word he spoke. "Jemma, she's _dying_ …and I-I just c-can't _allow_ that! _Not in front of Rosie_. How could I live with myself if I turned away _now_?" he implored dogmatically…and Jemma's breath caught in her throat at his desperation. Her heartbeat was yo-yoing as her mind began to race a mile a minute to keep up with her sudden whirlwind of emotions.

She felt like her legs could give out on her at any moment…that she'd break down and fall to pieces. She was _scared_ , quivering to the bone. The amount of terror she felt in her heart overwhelmed her…threatening to choke her…blinding her with rage…hatred… _scorching_ her soul from the inside out, further blackening her heart.

 _Here we go again_! She scoffed with a profound amount of bitterness. _We're back on the rollercoaster ride_ …the _one_ she'd promised herself that she'd _never_ board again after Rose had been born— _and Ward had been long gone…dust in the wind…and she'd feared that she would never see Fitz's mesmerizing cobalt blue eyes again._ Here was _another_ attractive _—and even with all her misgivings and resentments, she could admit that the figure bleeding out at her feet was one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen—_ inhuman who had come crashing head first— _quite literally this time_ —into their idyllic life…wreaking havoc on their emotions… _worming_ her way into their collective hearts…only to eventually leave them broken and bloody in the aftermath.

She closed her eyes against the sudden tide of renewed apprehension that overtook her, tears flowing down her cheeks as she tried her hardest not to hyperventilate. Because she _knew_.

 _Here we go again…_

A door closing shut echoed in the stark silence that had grown between her and Fitz. Leopold flinched at the sound. Jemma turned her head…and saw her— _their_ —beautiful little girl struggling to lug two huge duffle bags packed with all their belongs. The only true things they _owned_ …treasured.

"Here, Daddy." Rose huffed, hastily dropping the bags at their feet. A sheen of sweat beaded across her forehead with the effort. "I got everything," she promised, her _gorgeous_ brown eyes shining in the suburban moonlight. Jemma's breath hitched. _She had her father's eyes_.

 _Oh, God, Ward…?_

"Good, baby doll." Fitz praised, his eyes wet with unshed tears…his smile watery. "Go get in the car…we'll be right there in a sec."

Rose nodded and did as she was told. Not an ounce of disobedience could be found in her bones. She _always_ obeyed her daddy…trusting him implicitly. It was her mother she _constantly_ challenged…who she called out and stood up to. It drove her up a wall. Jemma choked out a laugh, her newfound hilarity bordering on hysterical. God, she loved _her_ little girl so much! _Maybe too much._ She was defenseless against the enormous love she felt for her daughter. She'd do _anything_ for her…even _save_ an inhuman.

 _"I hope you know what you're doing."_ She hissed, smoldering…bracing herself… keeping her breath even as a fragile sense of determination washed over, aligning itself into her every word. She hoped he _knew_ what he was getting them into… _for the sake of their daughter_.

She bent down, unzipping the lighter of the two duffels. She grabbed her medical kit, gripping it tightly. She zipped the bag closed. "Pick her up, Fitz and put her in the van." she ordered, her tone strict and professional. She was the Doctor Fitz-Simmons now _._ They'd _wanted_ her _._ They _got_ her _…_ and she no longer wanted to waste time on trivial matters. _She didn't have much time_ …not if she wanted her patient to _live_.

Fitz delicately scooped the half-dead inhuman off the blood-stained concert of their front yard, cradling her to his chest. His hold was taut… _protective_.

He nodded. "We're leaving… _now_."

Jemma agreed. "I got the duffle bags."

 _Here we go again indeed,_ she thought philosophically, slinging one of them over her shoulder as she raced towards the car. _They were truly_ _out of the_ _blue and into the black and diving into the utter unknown…where even God herself couldn't help them…_

Oh, God. _What were they doing?!_

 _ **TBC...**_


End file.
